Apprentice of the Detective
by Ebony Treaty
Summary: Sherlock gets an apprentice!


A/N: Hello, people of fanfiction. Sorry, me again. This is my second story on fanfiction. I have not finished my first story, but never fear, I promise I will finish it. My first fanfiction is a Rangers Apprentice story called _The Samurai,_ so please feel free to head on over and check it out.

Now, **this** story is a BBC Sherlock fanfiction. It's about-

Sherlock: Don't bother trying to explain it, you would do a crap job and scare everybody off.

Me: *sigh* I'm afraid you're right, Sherlock.

Sherlock: Of course I am, I'm always right.

Me: Anyway, on to the story!

Cassandra P.O.V

I hear him playing. This one's a kind of haunting melody. It's sweet and melodic with a touch of sadness and a lot of madness - it reminds me of home.

John left the flat about a half hour ago and he accidentally left the door open a bit, but it seems Sherlock hasn't noticed or doesn't care.

I open the door of 221A, my flat, to hear the song better. The music drifts through my door, trying to fill the space inside with its tune.

Pacing slowly away from the door, I take another draft of my cigarette. I have to be careful - Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, will kill me if she catches me smoking in her flat.

 _So hard to sustain a smoking habit in London. I had no problem in America._

My phone, sitting on my desk, starts buzzing. Lestrade, most likely. Without looking at the caller ID, I pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey sis!" Clare squeals on the other end.

"My name is Cassandra."

"But you're my sister, too." I stay silent. She doesn't really feel like my sister, hasn't felt like it for years now.

"Ok," she continues. "Well, I just called to let you know we'll be there in about two hours. I'm so excited!"

"Be where?"

"At your flat! 221A, right?"

"Who's we?"

"Me, my fiancé Edward," I cringe - that's going to be a fun pair. "Rose, and mom and dad." There's a light knock on the door and before I can react, Mrs. Hudson walks in with a tray of tea. She likes taking her tea with me when I'm here. Upon seeing the cigarette, she looks at me severely, but it seems she'll wait until I'm off the phone to scold me.

"Cassie? Are you still there?"

"Yes," I admit reluctantly. "And my name is Cassandra." I turn away from Mrs. Hudson, who was setting the tray on my small coffee table, and stub my cigarette out in the ashtray on my fireplace mantel. "Why are you coming here?"

"Mainly to celebrate my engagement, but it's your 21st birthday tomorrow, and you need to do something fun. You need to celebrate, too."

"I don't need to celebrate," I groan. "What's so great about turning 21?"

"You can start drinking," she said, as if that was the obvious thing. I was confused.

"So?" I questioned.

"So!" Her voice rose in pitch and volume, and I cringed. I glanced at Mrs. Hudson, but she was busy straightening some of my possessions, appearing not to pay the slightest attention to my conversation.

"Drinking will be good for-"

"Not my liver," I cut her off. Not very polite, but I need to end this conversation. "Listen, I'll talk to you later, ok? Bye." I hang up before she has a chance to reply. My sister can be so aggravating sometimes - and now she's engaged! I take a deep breath, running my hands through my loose hair, and face the landlady. She's glaring at me. I smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Hudson," I greet, walking over to the tea. "What's the latest gossip?" Just as Mrs. Hudson opened her mouth, to answer my question or berate me for smoking I don't know, my phone buzzed again. I glanced at the caller ID this time. I didn't want another conversation with Clare.

 _Lestrade._

Thank God.

I glance at Mrs. Hudson, ready to apologize, but she was walking out the door. Shrugging, I answer my phone.

"Yes?"

"Can you come?" He sounded kind of agitated.

"Where?"

"My office."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." And that was it. Whatever he needed, I would find out when I got there.

Not bothering to grab my coat, I pocketed my phone and dashed out the door. As I paused to lock it, I called out.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

"In here," I hear her voice float from somewhere downstairs. She emerges from the door of 221B as I reach the landing. I catch a glimpse of Sherlock setting down his violin and proceeding to look for something, before I turn my attention to Mrs. Hudson. It looks like she's forgotten about the cigarette.

"Can you keep everyone out of my flat, please?" I request sweetly.

"Are you expecting somebody?" She asks in turn.

"Yes. But they have no business in my flat when I'm not there."

"Where are you going?"

"Someplace," I reply vaguely. I've heard enough rumors from this lady to know not to tell her too much. She looks at me like she knows what I'm thinking.

"I'll keep everyone out." She relents. I give her a small smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." I turn and hurry away, but before I get halfway down the stairs, a man's voice calls out a question.

"Who are you expecting?" I pause and look back. Standing behind Mrs. Hudson is Sherlock, patiently waiting for my answer. I consider. He'll find out eventually and if I don't tell him, I risk getting on his bad side - so I tell him.

"My family." And with that, I turn, and hurry out of 221 Baker Street.


End file.
